Finding Eden
by Dark-Angel-blood
Summary: Frozen Shadows Book 1- A couple months after the battle with the Guardians, Pitch stumbles across a strange girl. Who is she and how can she help defeat a new threat to the children and the world? YAOI YAOI YAOI YAOI MALE/MALE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED no flames please and thank you dedicated to my lovely sister
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pain, and fear. It had been a while since he devoured a good dose of fear. The pain that accompanied it this time, Pitch could live without. He preferred to cause fear through psychological means than physical ones. Inflicting pain through the body wasn't his forte; it made his job too messy. This doesn't mean he couldn't stomach it, quite the contrary. Like all spirits that d welled in darkness, he too enjoyed a good torture now and then He in fact had many tools to do the job, so that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the creature he sensed was in the rawest of agonies, pain and fear so severe it could cause the creature's heart to stop, or lose consciousness. Neither of which Pitch wanted from a meal. But beggars can't be choosers and he hadn't tasted fear since he was dragged off by the nightmares, his own creations. Thankfully even in his weakened state, Pitch was sill able to teleport through the shadows. He followed the trail of fear away from his lair and towards the pond where he met his defeat at the hands of the Guardians. His pride refused to let him admit that he was wary of going near the small body of water. It was Frost's birthplace and chosen home. Pitch was risking his life coming any where close to the area; the newest Guardian could easily over power and kill him in his current state. He knew this, he knew this very well, but the smell, the feeling of another beings' pure terror was just too good to pass up. The smell of blood that was lingering in the area was appealing to his primal side. The closer he got to the small clearing, the stronger he felt, though just slightly. Just on the edge of the clearing, he stopped and observed a small figure dressed in a black, hooded and sleeved cloak. Knelling at the edge of the water, in a pool of blood, the figure continually tried to stand. Each time it barely got off its knees before falling back down, silently sobbing harder. Its head was bowed down so Pitch couldn't see its face, and its body was trembling. In a matter of seconds Pitch had teleported from his side of the pond to the figures'. It didn't seem to notice Pitch approach until he was right beside it. Its body stiffened and breathing noticeably sped up. Ever so slowly it lifted its head to reveal the face… of a child. All of a sudden Pitch realized, this child could see him. Pitch was too shocked to move any further. It seemed that all his body permitted him was to stare into the depths of icy blue that were the child's eyes. For the first time in the long year since his defeat, Pitch finally felt someone's' fear of himself, and for the first time ever it didn't feel right. Why did the fact that this child, this young girl that looked to be in her early teens, fearing him didn't sit right in his gut. Why did the girl's fear of him taste so… awful? Who was this child?

"Who are you?" The girl opened her mouth as if to respond, but then bit her lip, tears reforming at the corners of her eyes.

"WHO are you? Answer me." Pitch demanded with force, but still, the girl didn't answer instead the tears that formed ran down her face. She looked away. Sobs soon shook her body once again. Irritated by being denied the knowledge he required, Pitch reached down to force the girl to look at him, and grabbed her chin. He recoiled at the unexpected chill of her face. It was then he noticed the inhuman paleness of her skin. The color reminded him of one person, Frost. Pitch grew angry at the resemblance. The girl noticed his anger, eyes widening before squeezing shut as if she expected to be struck by this stranger. This shocked Pitch. What child expected to be hit by a complete stranger and braced for it? His shock replaced his anger. When a blow didn't come, the girl's eyes reopened, in them a look of confusion. Pitch suddenly had the desire to ensure the girl a blow was not going to come.

"I'm not going to hit you. What is your name."? She grabbed her throat with a blood stained hand and shook her head.

" You can not speak?" She shook her head again. Pitch then remembered the risk of being at this pond for too long. Frost could show up any minute.

"Can you walk?" She shook her head, hard, sending strands of light blonde, thigh length hair this way and that. It was a definite no. Carefully, he picked up the girl, and began to carry her to his lair instead of teleporting through shadows. He didn't want to startle her since her fear of him tasted awful. She was unhealthily light. Once he reached his lair, Pitch hurried to his throne room, and sat her on the room's stone namesake. When he examined her legs, he found many still bleeding wounds and the source of her immobility; a left leg broken at the knee. The pain the girl was in must have been unbearable. Pitch was surprised she was still conscious. He started to really wonder; what happened to her? Everything about this girl puzzled him. Who was she? Who inflicted this wounds? Why? His most important question; why did he care?

A month had passed since that day. Pitch was slowly getting used to sharing his home with her. It was easier then he expected since she still could not speak and she eagerly did what he asked. Pitch's lair was cleaner then it had ever been thanks to her. Pitch had become accustomed to the sound of bare feet running around the stone floors. He still didn't know her name; instead he called her "Girl" or "Little One". He had even become used to her tugging on his sleeve when she needed something or just wanted his attention. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Pitch felt an emotion that he refused to pay any attention to. His inner mind did though. The emotion was contentment.

" Little One! " Pitch had been searching his large home for what felt like hours. He was annoyed but not angry. His silverish-gold eyes showed a hint of worry. She always came when called, if not the first time then the second or third. Never more then that and never had he have had to call for her past ten times. He had searched about everywhere and was at his wits end when he went to call upon his Nightmares to help with the search. When he came to where the Nightmares were, Pitch was stopped in his tracks. There, in the middle of thirteen or more Nightmares, was the girl. They all were resting, laying down all around her. One was letting her use it as a headrest as she read from the stack of books next to her. His Nightmares were hostile towards everyone besides Pitch and here was this child using one as a pillow. . Pitch was shocked to the point he had almost forgotten what he wanted her for, almost.

"Little One, its time to change your bandages." The girl looked up from her book and beamed a brilliant smile at him. It was still strange to Pitch that the teenager was always so happy to see him, given who he was. They walked into the throne room where the girl sat down and let Pitch see to her wounds. The various cuts on her arms and legs had healed leaving not a single scar on her pale skin, which greatly and strangely pleased Pitch. Her broken left leg was also healed, but the wasn't the most severe or gruesome of her injures. The teenager tried to hide it the first day, but Pitch quickly found out the cause of all the blood on the ground at the pond, and also the cause of her muteness. Her throat had been slit.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Later that night, Pitch carried "Little One" to the king-size bed that he had been sharing with the teenager since he found her. Pitch remembered that night well. When he showed her the room she would be staying in, she started crying and shaking. She clung to the front of Pitch's robes, begging with wide eyes not to be left alone. Pitch was once again hit by wave after wave of the teenager's fear. It was nauseating, the fear, and Pitch for the life of him could not figure out why. It bothered him greatly then, as it did currently, that such a frail girl got through his barriers, that such a fragile little thing could break down the walls he spent so much time building … just by looking at him with those amazing, icy blue eyes. Pitch glanced down at the sleeping girl he was carrying in her arms. He had noticed she had been having nightmares but they always dissolved into peaceful dreams when Pitch comforted the girl as she slept. Pitch wondered if this meant that her subconscious trusted him. It was a strange thought, someone trusting him. He pulled the blanket up to her chin carefully so not to wake her. The Nightmares then decided to start making a ruckus. Cursing under his breath, Pitch left the bedroom hoping that she would stay asleep. She needed all the rest she could get to heal properly. When he returned after threatening the Nightmares into silence, the poor teen was in the grasp of one of her night terrors. Pitch rushed to her side and brushed her light blonde bangs from her forehead. She was covered in a cold sweat, trembling as she slept. Pitch wondered what could possibly be haunting her. He had thought about peering into her dreams before, but never had. Now he couldn't resist. Pitch closed his eyes and touched their foreheads together. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. In the dream he saw a crowd surrounding the teen and a bloodied, lifeless body.

"Monster!"

"The Freak killed him!"

"Murderer!"

The crowd was yelling such things at her and throwing stones and some good-sized rocks. And all she did was beg and plead, with the voice Pitch so longed to hear, that it was a mistake, an accident, she didn't mean to. She didn't even fight back or defend herself even when on of those rocks cut open her forehead. The crowd got closer and closer. When one man pulled out a knife, she finally got up and ran away. The teen ran as hard as she could through a moonlight forest, but the man was gaining fast. She tripped over a tree limb. Pitch's heart sank as the man stepped down hard on her left leg, breaking it at the knee with a sickening snap. It was then Pitch realized that this wasn't just a dream. This night terrors, were her memories coming back to haunt her. The man started slashing at the teen's arms and legs. She finally tried fighting back but it was too late. The blade was nearing her neck. Pitch broke the connection. He didn't want to see…. that. He was so disgusted. How could anyone do that to someone so defenseless, to his "Little One"? He lay down next to her and pulled the teen in to his arms. At least she was sleeping peacefully now. Pitch sighed, he was beginning to realize how attached to her he was becoming.

`Oh well, I'll deal with that in the morning.' He pulled her closer and fell asleep with the feeling of her body pressed against his right side.


End file.
